It's Not Him
by Kyubi4Hokage
Summary: This man may look like Antonio, and he may sound like him, but Alvarez knew better. SpaPort/PortSpa. Spanish Civil War era.


It's Not Him

I really like writing for Port (Alvarez) during his 'civil war' time, which was actually just when his nation was fascist. I feel like I know him better then. So here's some fascist SpaPort~

WARNING: incestuous pair ahead. Politically sensitive material as well. Mental illness as well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

That warm smile he was so used to seeing was twisted into a sick grin, and the Portuguese man couldn't help but feel nervous looking at Antonio. He didn't look like his younger brother anymore, but a man who was plagued by illness. And rightly so, too. The civil war had already taken a lot out of Antonio as he fought against his country (an act Alvarez had never actually thought possible, but then again, he had never found a reason to fight against his boss), and with the rebellion losing, Antonio's poor sanity had finally slipped down the drain as well.

"Where is my brother?" Alvarez asked coldly, wishing he could just punch some sense into the Spaniard like he usually did.

"He's somewhere~ what I'd like to know is why you haven't been helping out, Alvarez~?" The purr that fell from those cursed lips was not unlike the way Toni purred in bed, but this wasn't Antonio, and the elder brother could not be caught up in such thoughts at the moment.

"I won't talk to you, monster, now get out of my house," he attempted shutting the Spaniard out, but was interrupted by a foot in the door and a sinister grin peeking through that crack.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, hermano~" Spain purred again, forcing his way into the house. For a moment Alvarez wondered if this was always how Antonio had been, a balance of the sweet, human personality combined with the ruthless insanity of a nation, and it made him question whether or not all nations were like that. He heard that ridiculously deep voice speak again and reminded himself that this wasn't his brother, "You know, my country is the only one who's actually keeping yours afloat right now. I wouldn't be so quick to shut me out~"

"Give me back Antonio and then I'll talk," Alvarez said sternly, crossing his arms and standing to block the others' entrance. It was moments like this when he wished for his brother to be smaller again, or to at least not be at a matching height. It was so much harder to scold like this.

"But what if he doesn't want to come out, hm~? You know war is so harsh on fragile human minds. I don't really get why you guys get all the fun anyway," Spain leaned against the doorway, suddenly appearing uninterested in the conversation at hand, "anyway, my boss just wanted me to check on you, make sure you're still sane and fascist and everything. It'd be a pitty if someone as strong as yourself turned over to the Commies," the Spaniard reached forth, grabbing Al's face with smooth, familiar fingers, and yet again Alvarez had to remind himself that this was not Antonio.

"You know I think of what's best for my country first," he said, pulling back away from Spain, "and if the Communists end up being what's best, then that is where my allegiance will lie. Unlike you, I am not heartless, and I will not willingly kill my own people."

"That's the same thing Antonio said before he started losing it, you know," the nation in the doorway looked displeased, and maybe a little upset, "he gave up his sanity thinking he was protecting his own people, when it was really what ended up killing them in the end. All those names and faces, they're still up here, and I savor the moments when I can show that stupid human brat what a rebellion is meant for. You should hear him scream when I carve them up-"

Suddenly there was the sound of flesh on flesh, and the Spaniard was thrown back from the door. Alvarez really didn't know how to act in a situation like this, when it was his brother torturing himself, but the punch had felt necessary. Emerald eyes still glared harshly back at him, and he knew that he hadn't shaken Spain from his spot in Antonio's mind, "you leave my brother alone, you hear me? You give him his body back right now, and you stop torturing him like this."

"Ah, but I can't do that, Portugal~" the Spaniard's accent had grown heavy, "You see, Antonio voluntarily went away. He couldn't deal with working under Franco, so I decided it was my turn to take over. It's never really been a conscious switch before, but... I kind of like this dual personality thing. I don't have to act like such a bitch anymore, and I still get the job done right."

Alvarez was usually a calm man, and he didn't often speak. But this imitator was wearing thin on his patience, and he knelt down, grabbing the front of the man's shirt and brought him close to his own face, "Now listen here, you son of a bitch, I don't care if Antonio did this to himself, you bring him back right now, and you let me speak to him, you hear me?! I swear, I will not hesitate to beat the living shit out of you until you let me see my damn brother, you got that?!"

The Spaniard raised his hands in surrender, a sly grin coming over his face again, "alright, you asked for him. Just know that I've been holding this war back from him, so once I'm gone, he's gonna see all that nastiness~"

Al's gaze remained steely, and he waited for the change in demeanor that meant Antonio had returned. After watching Spain shrug again, the emerald eyes before him suddenly turned glassy and unfocused, darting around before closing, a blood curdling scream wrenching itself from Antonio's lips. His words were all in Spanish- the Castilian kind that Alvarez never really got to understanding, and he had to pull his brother inside before he would attract any more attention.

This... this would be a long night...

* * *

So... my original 'headcanon' timeline is that Spain went to Romano/Romano came to visit Spain during the end of Franco's regime, and that's what really brought them back together. You know, since Spamano is my main ship for Spain. But I really couldn't resist writing this piece because Portugal and Spain were in such a similar position in that time. The only difference was, there was no civil war in Portugal, which would have left him a little more 'sane'. Also, I just feel Antonio is one of those nations who keeps forgetting he's actually a nation, so fighting against the original coup and with the rebellion seems totally in his range of control. That is, until Franco actually becomes his boss and he's forced under his control. Thus the split in Antonio/Spain, right?

Anyway! I want to write more to this, but I haven't thought out anything further than this chapter! It's going as complete for now, but I'll try to write some more!


End file.
